


I shall just dance my way to freedom...

by Theangelhasfallen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Castiel, American Dean, Baddass Castiel, Castiel centric, Child Castiel, Dancer Castiel, Dancer Dean, Feisty Castiel, Loving Dean, M/M, Neglected Castiel, Orphan Annie inspired, Orphan Castiel, Poor Castiel, Protective Dean, Russian Castiel, Slave Castiel, Teen Castiel, Trickster Gabriel, well forced labour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theangelhasfallen/pseuds/Theangelhasfallen
Summary: Castiel Novak is a small boy with big dreams- he wants to travel the world and to go see the beauty of America, England, France or perhaps Italy. However, his dreams are shedded by his reality as Castiel Novak is an orphan stuck in the middle of Russian. Hated and therefore brutily beaten by the headmaster of the crummy orphanage Castiel is miserable. So when a mysterious stranger gives him the option to join his dance school and perhaps one day visit America, Castiel jumps at the opportunity. It is the only was... isn't it?





	I shall just dance my way to freedom...

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, just letting you know that English is not my first language so if there are any blaring mistakes please let me know :)

Castiel's earliest memory, from a time when he was about two or three, was of the menacing figure of Mr Adler pulling him and his six year old brother, Gabriel, from the hands of a police officer and marched them up the stairs of the crumbling and downright terrifying orphanage which was located in the city of Zeya in Russia.

Mr Adler was a fat, whale of a man, with greasy, thin grey hair. He reminded the orphans of a particularly unpleasant looking- and all too real- Halloween clown.

Mr Adler had given both of the Novak brothers a dozen whacks against the backside with the fat, buckled belt which had been previously used to keep the black slacks from falling down his fat bottom. Apparently it was for penance for creating a scene when arriving. Both brothers had not said a word since being abandoned on a street near a pile of rubbish. Cas knew it was just an excuse to hit them.

However, Castiel had never cried. Even as a tiny tot, Cas had never cried when Mr Adler beat him, a show of spirit that infuriated Mr Adler.

Because Cas was at once the spunkier and most intelligent of the boys in the orphanage, Mr Adler hated him more than anyone else in his twenty- eight years of being headmaster at the orphanage. He hated him even his trickster brother Gabriel who had a tendency to cause mischief wherever he went.

“I'll break the little brat soon,” had been Mr Adler's motto to himself whenever he saw Cas. Oh and he tried very hard indeed to break his feisty spirit. It usually came in the form of extra chores- greasy pots to scrub in the orphanages dark kitchen basement, grimy windows to clean, floors to scrub on his hands and feet. But Cas never let his spirit flag and decided to make it his personal mission to make Mr Adler all the more angrier by taking on every task with a wide Cheshire grin and a little laugh- the worst the chore the bigger the smile.

“You see, it's a war against Mr Adler and I”, Castiel explained to the other orphans when they asked why he was always in trouble, “and I'm not going to give into him ever.”

As the years passed and Cas transformed from a tiny toddler into curious eight year old boy and Gabe into a still mischievous ten year old, the brothers slowly became accustomed to the gruelling routine of the orphanage.

Every morning at six a.m the piercing whistle of Mr Adler's whistle was blasted into the orphans bedroom. Eighteen of them slept in that tiny room, two per tiny cot with just a thin sheet and lumpy pillow to shield the orphans from the harsh winter of Russia.

Cas obviously slept with Gabe which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing as he got time to cuddle with his brother and talk in hushed voices about their dreams about traveling away to get somewhere amazing- America, England, France or perhaps Italy. Anywhere but cold, miserable Russia. However, it was a curse as not only did Gabe steal all the covers but he was a drippler. Cas can say now that having a wet mouth smooched into the back of your neck every morning is not pleasant in the slightest.

“Alright, get up, you miserable, good for nothing worms!” Mr Adler would yell every morning at them after he had blown their eardrums out with his whistle. After the boys would take a freezing cold shower, which would make Cas’s hair stand on end; his skin to emerge in large goosebumps and his teeth to chatter. The boys would then dress themselves quickly in either too big or too small, holey clothes; make their beds; sweep the dormitory and then were finally marched down to the dining room for breakfast.

“No talking!” Mr Adler would snap and hit the back of Cas’s head hard even though he was never the one talking. The boys would then silently on the hard wooden benches at a long trestle table as the oldest boy in the orphanage, Michael, served up breakfast.

For as fast back as Cas remembered breakfast had been the same- a glass of bluish skimmed milk and a bowl of hot mush. The mush, which was prepared my Mr Adler himself, was mouse-grey in colour and lumpy in texture, and it tasted worse than it smelt. When they'd first come to the orphanage, many of the boys had gagged on Mr Adler’s mush and haven't been able to eat more than a spoonful before rushing to the toilet to empty their stomach earning them a slap on their return. But, after time, they had grown used to it. Because for breakfast in the orphanage, it was mush or nothing at all.

After breakfast, the schedule in the orphanage varied depending if it was a school day or not. If there was school, Mr Adler would march the children thirty minutes down to the nearest primary school. The walk was always miserable- made to walk two by two in complete silence normally thighs deep in snow (especially in the winter) without any protection from the cold apart from (well in Cas’s case- some kids got it better) a thin trench coat, fingerless gloves and a tatty red scarf. One would have thought school would have been a sanctuary of sorts for Cas, especially due to him having the intelligence far beyond that of an eight year old orphan boy. However, Cas always found himself not paying attention or fidgeting and therefore always getting into trouble- something Mr Alder liked to use to his advantage and punish Cas again when back at the orphanage.

Every day at four o’clock on the dot Mr Adler would collect the freezing orphans from the front gate and frog march them back to the orphanage where they would do chores until their fingers froze and their legs screamed from exhaustion. Then he would give them a meagre dinner of meat boiled to death or soup which was thin enough to be mistaken for water.

However, on non-school days the routine was much, much different. Rather than relaxing and playing on their free days as most other children across the world would do, Mr Adler would make the orphans sew shirts in the cramped and windowless attic. The boys worked for eight hours, apart from a short twenty minute break for lunch another glass of skimmed milk and a fatty ham sandwich). Each orphan was expected to create at least two high quality shirts by the end of the day, or else they would get not only locked in the cupboard for the night but also thirty smacks by Mr Adler's paddle. And that was if he was feeling gracious.

The shirts made- frilly, button up shirts of silk and chiffon in bright colours of canary yellow and magenta- were in stark contrast to the orphans rags which they wore. Mr Adler had made a deal with a small clothing manufacturing line somewhere near the orphanage in which they supplied the sewing machines, the thread and the material and in exchange Mr Adler would give them 40% of the profit he made by selling the shirts.

“They are to help feed, clothe and put a roof over your heads,” Mr Adler would explain sweetly every time when the boys would trudge miserably up to bed with their fingers sore and bleeding. “You are not cheap at all, and goodness knows the government does not me give enough money to feed you all properly.”

This was a lie. Cas knew this was a lie as he had calculated that if indeed Mr Aler was spending the money on the orphans they would have nearly double the money for clothes, food and blanket. In fact, Cas knew exactly where the money went. It went straight into Mr Adler’s chubby hands and into buying him top of the range, vintage furniture which he decorated his house with.

Most weeks, Me Adler made 1757.53 rubies from the orphans slave work. They were not supposed to work, or course, but it was not as if anyone cared in the slightest. Mr Adler could have murdered them all and would still not be fired or even found out.

No one had nor never would cared. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are the fuel which keeps the fire burning


End file.
